What is Mine
by Snarky Snakes
Summary: Sparrow, Queen of Albion, lay dying. She had one more secret to reveal to her most beloved daughter before she could rest in eternal peace. Sparrow hoped that the young girl would find peace after she died, for Theresa told her what her young daughter was destined for. Princess/Elliot, Logan/OC, Warnings for violence, child abuse and profanity.
1. Chapter 1: With My Last Breath

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, nor am I making any money off this.

**Author's note: **The Princess is five years old at the start of this fic, it is a very long fic that spans from 5 years old to a year after the Crawler comes. She has black hair that is naturally wavy curling into large ringlets at her shoulders, her eyes are dark. She's smart, but emotionally fragile. Sparrow is the Queen. Pairings: Elliot/Princess much later on, and Logan/OC.

**What is Mine.**

**Chapter 1.**

"Come now Princess, it's time to get up."

She groaned and sat up, eyeing her butler with a disgruntled scowl on her face. "Time is it?" She mumbled stretching.

"Nearly ten my Princess." Jasper answered as he opened the curtains, letting the sun shine into her room as she hopped out of her large canopied bed. She raced over to her dresser and pulled out her Queen outfit, Elliot was supposed to be coming over that day and she wanted to play Queen and the Knight. It was her favorite game, they'd go on adventures dressed up, defeating many foes and at the end was always some sort of treasure. "Perhaps a more...demure outfit would be best today."

She looked up at Jasper, who had been here for as long as she could remember and frowned, "But Elliot is supposed to be here Jasper and you know that the dragons in the gardens need to be kept in line or they'll attack the castle!" she whined.

"Never fear Princess, I shall keep them at bay for the day. You should spend time with your Mother, her Majesty. She isn't doing well this morning." He spoke quietly, bending down on one knee in front of her.

She frowned as she shuffled her feet looking at the floor. Her heart beat fast with fear, her Mom had been sick for a while now, and no matter how many doctors' they brought in she never got any better. Lately though she had been more sick than usual, she had never seen her mother so frail and weak, completely bedridden. Though she never got to see her much, her father tried to keep her and Logan from pestering their mom as much as possible, which is what made her so scared. If she was being asked to spend time with her Mom something must be terribly wrong. "Is she gonna be okay?" She asked weakly.

The old butler just looked at her with sympathy in his eyes and grasped her shoulder, squeezing softly, "I am not certain, but I know your Mother will fight with all her power to stay with you." She nodded and threw her outfit and props to the ground. Instead she took out a navy blue dress with lace trim around the sleeves, collar, waist and hem, grabbing a pair of bloomers and white stockings she got dressed, placing her feet in black dress shoes with a bow on top of them. She sat quietly her hands clasped between her knees, looking at the floor as Jasper brushed her hair. She chewed on her bottom lip, all she could think about was the goldfish she used to have and how when it died it floated to the top of its tank. They had flushed it down the toilet, Mom had put together a small funeral for him, which even the servants attended in their best dresses. Father didn't attend though, but she hadn't been surprised, she was never close with him. He had always been very distant, aloof and cold with her, it was as if she was a bad smell under his nose and he wanted her out of his sight as often as possible. Logan on the other hand was his pride and joy, he lavished her brother with attention and affection, along with hundreds of gifts. The only thing she ever got from her father was a straw doll when she was three, that and a lot of spankings. She just wondered what happened when people died, was her Mom going to die? Besides Elliot, Mom was her best friend, she felt tears pool in her eyes but she blinked them back. She was a Princess, it was unbecoming of one to cry. That's what father said anyway.

Jasper gave her an encouraging smile and she ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, "Hi guys." She waved at the servants who curtsied and smiled at her before taking the stairs two at a time. She stopped short at the doors to her mother's room, her father standing out front of it, arms crossed.

"Took you long enough to get here. She wants to see you, make it quick." Her Father said coldly staring down his nose at her. She bowed her head and curtsied.

"Yes'sir." She mumbled, edging around him into the room. She spotted her mother lying in bed. She had grown thin and pale, she sat on the bed next to her and took her hand in her own. It was so light and cold, the bones standing out grotesquely. "Hi Mummy."

A faint smile graced her Mother's lips as she squeezed the girl's small hand, "Marcella, my beautiful daughter. I'm glad you came, I've missed you."

"I missed you too Mommy, but Father said I wasn't to bother you." Marcy spoke gently, she felt her mother's hand stroke her cheek and leaned into the touch.

"I know." Her Mother was quiet for a few minutes, "There is something I need to tell you Marcy. I don't know how much longer I have and it's important you know this." Marcy's eyes widened, filling with tears.

"Don't say that Mummy, Jasper said you'd be okay so long as you kept fighting!" She cried out, her Mother simply smiled at her.

"Oh honey, I wish I could stay longer with you, I love you so. Everyone dies Marcy, everything will be okay. Just listen to me okay?" She said weakly, breathing in as much as she could. "King Morgan isn't your father."

Marcy gaped and then fumbled for words, "Wh-what? What do you mean?!" She sputtered confused, "Of course he is, that's why I call him-" Her mother cut her off simply by a shake of her head.

"No...honey, he isn't. He and I kept it a secret from everyone, even you." Her mother struggled for air, fighting with every fiber of her being to get the words out, "Your father lives. You must find him. Morgan...don't trust him….I've protected you…" She watched her mother's eyes begin to dim and she clung to her.

"Mommy, no! Mom!" She cried out, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Father...hero of skill…" were the last words the Queen of Albion spoke before her entire body relaxed and her eyes glazed over.

"No!" She yelled, sobbing she began to shake her mother by her shoulders, "Mommy wake up!" the door burst open, she looked over to find Fat-no King Morgan looking at her Mother frozen, his eyes darkening when he saw her.

"Get out Marcella. Go." He said gruffly, she reluctantly obeyed, not willing to risk his temper at such a time. She ran through the palace, pushing past servants and noblemen as the tears fell down her face. She burst out of the castle doors only to collide with what felt like a solid wall. Looking up from the ground, her red puffy eyes met those of her Mother's adviser. She began crying again, great hiccups racking her small frame.

Walter kneeled in front of her, "What's the matter Princess? Did Logan hide your doll again?" He asked frowning. She shook her head.

"Mummy's dead!" She sobbed out, Walter paled and took in a shakey breath.

"I see. I'm so sorry Princess." He took her under the arms and lifted her to his chest. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder she just cried. She clung to him desperately, her only comfort in this tragedy, as he carried her through the castle and up the stairs to her room. He sat her on the bed and stroked her hair. "Okay Princess, I know this is hard, but you have to be brave. Your father will only have the throne so long as your brother is under age. You are a full-fledged royal now, you must be brave." He wiped her face with a piece of cloth and she nodded.

Mom had been everything to her, but she knew her Mother would want her to be a Lady, brave and strong, just like she had been. She wanted to so badly be like her Mother, a hero and Queen. The people loved her but not nearly as much as she had. She laid back in the bed, cuddling her teddy bear to her chest and stared at the wall. She heard Walter leave and tried to shove all the grief, all the sadness deep within her so no one could ever see or reach it, not even her.

**One Year Later**

"Ah, Princess, there you are!" Walter called out as she sat reading one of her Mother's books, she shut the cover tracing her fingers over the gilded title _Hero of Skill._ She had been trying to figure who her father was since the day her Mom had passed but so far she hadn't even come close to discovering it. There was barely any information on this man, and not one book mentioned his name, as if they were afraid of him. She frowned as the large pool of loneliness grew inside of her. Would she never have anyone of her own? Since her Mother's death Logan avoided her, when they were forced into the same room together he refused to look at her. Jasper pitied her, it was evident in his every action, down to the look in his eyes, and the King had grown even more cruel to her. Her Mother had been protecting her from his wrath, his vengeance for her mother cheating on him. She avoided him at all costs, or tried to. Walter was kind to her, in fact he was the only one who treated her the same as always, but unfortunately the King kept him awfully busy, and sent him away on missions quite often.

She smiled when she saw him walking towards her though and jumped up, "Walter!" She squealed running towards him and tackling him around the waist in a hug, he chuckled and patted her back.

"Missed me that much?" He smiled down at her and she nodded.

"Even more." She chirped, it was their routine whenever he came back. How she wished he was the Hero of Skill, but she had already asked. Not only wasn't he but he didn't know who was, only that the man had tried to kill her Mother and betrayed her a few times. "You missed my birthday!" She pouted, pulling away and crossing her arms.

"I know, I know. Your father sent me up to mistpeak to speak to the dwellers. But I didn't forget, I got you something." He said as he pulled out a wrapped package. She had kept her family's secret to herself, not sure if even Logan knew. She grabbed the gift and ripped through the paper covering it, inside was a beautifully hand-crafted, decorative pure silver sword, with a rose gold hilt, roses and tiny sparrows rested on the vines circling the handle and blade. Gold letters ran the length of the blade reading 'Young Warrior." the meaning of her name. It was a breath-taking piece and she beamed up at Walter, her eyes gleaming with happiness.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She said hopping up and down, she once more crashed into Walter's waist hugging him tightly as he laughed.

"Of course Princess, I am glad you like it, does this mean you wouldn't reject an old man's offer to train you?" Walter asked his eyebrow raised.

"Train me? You mean how to be a strong and noble warrior?" She asked excitedly. Walter nodded, "Yes yes yes, train me Walter, train me!"

He grinned, "Alright, but I warn you it's going to take some time and commitment on your part. And trust me there will be homework and very boring parts. In fact we aren't even going to start with a sword at all. Do you know how to dance?"

She looked confused, "Dance? Why would I need to dance?"

"Foot work is very important in battle, if one has the wrong footing, or is off balance it would be extremely easy for your enemy to either disarm you, put you on your back or kill you. Most of the time, all three." He said, she nodded, even though she didn't look happy about not starting with elegant sword moves.

"Um...I know some dancing but not much." She shrugged, she had never taken her dancing lessons seriously, she rarely paid attention, preferring to either play with Elliot or read.

Walter nodded, "Well I shall teach you how to tango first, but you must put your all into your dancing lessons from now on Princess." She nodded sighing. She took Walter's hands and slowly followed his moves. For the next couple hours she moved in time with Walter, the man she wished was her father, smiling the entire time. Perhaps dancing wasn't so bad after all. Soon however the sky began to darken and she was sweating, her dress sticking to her. "I think it's time you get cleaned up, your father should be calling you for dinner any second now. I'll see you again next week for another lesson, remember practice your dancing. Ballet would help you too not just ballroom dancing."

She nodded and gave him a quick wave before running through the garden, up the stairs and into her room. Lila was waiting for her, the large basin behind the partition was full of steaming water. She stripped down fast not wanting to be late for dinner, she knew the rules. If you were late for food you didn't get any. It had taken her a few months to get used to the King's new rules for her but she had them down now. She stepped into the basin and thoroughly scrubbed herself, allowing Lila to wash and dry her hair. As she dressed in a slightly formal gown Lila did up her hair. Soon enough she was sitting across from Logan at the large table in the dining hall.

They waited for the King to arrive and begin eating before they were allowed to, she piled the steak and potatoes onto her plate, glancing up surprised when Logan dumped a few spoonfuls of vegetables on her plate. It was the most affection he showed her in the last year, she gave him a slight smile that wasn't missed by the king, who coughed and puffed up his chest. "So Logan, did you enjoy your visit to Aurora?"

She seemed surprised, that's where they were the day of her birthday! She knew better than to interrupt their conversation but her curiosity won over her common sense, "You went to Aurora? That is so cool! What's it like? Is the food really as good as they say? Do they really wear see-through garments to ward off the heat? Did you bring back any of the rare flowers that grow there?" She blurted out. Logan's eyes shifted over to his Father's, noticing the scowl on the man's face Logan wisely kept his mouth closed.

"It was amazing Father, the people are very kind there, even with their odd religion. Is there no chance we might annex them into Albion? I do believe there are useful resources in the desert." Logan asked as he sipped his wine. She deflated, shrinking in her seat she hoped she wouldn't get screamed at for speaking out of turn.

"The people of Aurora are strong and proud my boy, they do not wish to be ruled over by any but their own. However I do believe we made progress with opening trade, and hopefully a stronger bond between our nations. By the time you are on the throne you might make that possible." The king said, a proud glint in his eyes as he looked at Logan. She relaxed a bit as it seemed the King wasn't going to punish her.

She just wished she had been able to go, but the king never brought her anywhere's, not even out into their own kingdom. She hadn't left the castle since before her mother got sick and as much as she loved the place she was beginning to resent it, developing a strong case of cabin fever. She knew better than to ask though, let alone complain or act up, so she just bit her lip and ate quietly, her eyes on the table. She felt an emptiness inside of her as the two talked amongst themselves as if she didn't exist. She ached for a father to talk to her like that, to be interested in her life like the King was Logan's. No one would ever be proud of her again, she felt a bubble of resentment and jealousy at Logan rear up at her. She merely had 5 measly years with the only person to love her and be proud of her, and not only did he get her mother as well but also the King while she was left alone.

"Is the food not good enough for you Marcella?" The king sneered, she looked up surprised. She _had _been playing with the food on her plate, she blushed.

"Sorry sir, I was just thinking." She answered quietly, hoping his attention would shift elsewhere.

"Perhaps you should endeavor to learn how to think and eat at the same time. Most people are capable of it, even the peasants who don't even know how to read." He said coldly, she just nodded, shifting in her seat uncomfortably, her cheeks burning with humiliation.

She felt Logan's eyes on her but did not dare to look up at him, "I found something in Aurora for you sister." Suddenly a book slid across the table and she slowly looked up. "It's about that person you've been reading about."

"What person is this?" the King's eyes narrowed, his cheeks flushing.

"Marcy's been reading all of Mother's books on the Hero of Skill." Logan supplied unknowingly revealing information that would surely upset the king.

As expected King Morgan's face turned a deep shade of purple, turning to me he hissed, "I told you to leave it be! Is it so hard for you to understand a simple command?!" He yelled his voice echoing in the large space. She bit her lip, peering at Logan as if he could protect her, his face turned pale and he sent an apologetic look her way. Before things could go any further however an ear-ringing crash sounded, the horrible sound of breaking glass drowned out anything else Morgan had to say. Her eyes widened as a breeze blew her hair back. All three stood up quickly as servants ran away and guards ran towards them.

However they weren't fast enough, she watched in horror as a small glass vial flew through the air towards Logan, "Logan!" She screamed, without thinking she drew the sword Walter gave her from her pants and threw it at the bottle. She watched with bated breath as she hit her target feet away from Logan. The strange green substance exploding over the stone floor, when it hit it sizzled and ate away at the cobblestone beneath them. Logan paled and turned back to her, he had a look of amazement on his face. The guards quickly escorted the three of them out of the room and to the King's study. It was the most reinforced room in the castle.

It was silent for a few minutes after they were escorted into the room. Two soldiers remained, guarding the doors but this didn't stop the King from rounding on her and hissing, "What was that?"

"I don't know!" She said, "It looked like some sort of potion!" Her heart thudded against her chest, she inched closer to Logan who seemed frozen to the ground.

"And just how did you manage to do that, hm? Are you training behind my back?!" He roared, she shook her head quickly.

"No! Of course not!" She answered pleadingly

"No? Then just where did you get that sword?" The king asked menacingly stepping towards her. She took a step back.

"It was a birthday present!"

The king gave a harsh laugh then hissed, "Don't lie to me girl, who'd want to celebrate your birthday? You're a curse to this family and this kingdom!"

Her lips trembled and she looked down, refusing to answer, too afraid of what the King would do to Walter if she answered. "Well?!" He yelled. She remained quiet, knowing her silence would only fuel his anger more, but she didn't know what else to do.

"And just how did you manage that little feat of yours?" He asked a few seconds later.

"I dunno, I just aimed and threw." She shrugged, taking another step back.

"Don't lie to me Marcella. Tell me who's been training you, right now!" He grabbed her arm and shook, she winced and struggled to get away.

"I don't know what you're talking about! Get off me!" She yelled, pulling at her arm but the king only gripped her harder, making her cry out with pain.

"Your brother nearly died!" He roared, giving her a harsh shake, her neck snapped back causing her to wince.

"And I saved him, unlike you who just stood there like a peasant!" She yelled out, Logan sucked a breath in sharply. The king's hand left her arm for only a second before it collided sharply with her face. The hard blow knocked her clean off her feet, pain exploded in her jaw, lights danced in her eyes as she hit the floor. She began to cry, her hand over cheek, she looked up at the furious king.

"You ungrateful, worthless little bastard, dare talk to me like that?!" He roared.

She shuffled back a few feet before standing and glaring up at the king, anger swelling in her chest, "I'm glad I'm not your daughter, I hate you! It's no wonder Mom loved my real father more than you!" She screamed, Logan's eyes bugged out of his face but the King grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to the desk.

"You think your father wants you anymore than I do girl? Trust me, no one wants you. That's why I'm here and he isn't! You will be punished for your impertinence, perhaps you'll remember to mind your manners with me from now on!" The king spat as he threw her face first on the desk, quickly taking off his belt he wrapped it around his fist, letting the buckle dangle freely, he yanked up her dress baring her back. She gritted her teeth, tears already pooling in her eyes as her breathing became fast. It was times like these she dreamed and hoped her real father would barge in and save her, but of course that never happened. Perhaps the king was right, no one wanted her.

"Father stop!" Logan cried out, grabbing the king's wrist, "Please, don't! It's my fault, I got her the book and she saved my life-"

"She needs to learn her place Logan, she's lucky to even be allowed to remain in this castle. She should remember that." He turned back to the Princess and brought his arm over his head, bringing the buckle down hard on her back. She screamed out, her body convulsing with the excruciating and burning pain. The tears fell down her eyes, as the King brought the belt down again and again without relenting once. Her body jerked and she screamed with each blow, blood flowed down her back, dripping onto the floor as the metal tore at her tender skin. She lost count of the blows after twenty-five, the pain nearly unbearable, and her vision tunneling. Finally the doors opened and another guard stepped in, "It's safe, we apprehended the assassin your Highness, he is in the dungeon when you wish to deal with him."

She sobbed quietly as she felt him move away from her and she slid lifelessly to the floor, crying out when she hit it. She hugged her knees too scared to move, she listened as the king replied, "Very well, thank you Captain, I shall see to it immediately." And with that he left, leaving the two guards who had watched, Logan and her alone. She looked up into Logan's pale, nauseated and worried face, the guards were looking anywhere at her, tense and uncomfortable. She flung herself on Logan, ignoring the sharp and burning pain this elicited from her back and sobbed against his chest. For once she was truly a little girl as she cried against him wailing, "I want my daddy!"

Logan carefully patted her on the back of the head and gently picked her up, settling her little form on his hips. They were rather far apart in ages, he was sixteen and she only six. "It's okay, I have you, come on Marcy." He carried her to her room and yelled for her maid, Lila. He laid her face down on the bed, careful to not let her dress fall on her back, the maid came through the door and paled at the carnage that was her back. "Get some warm water, cloth and bandages." He ordered. A few minutes later they were placed in front of them.

"Hold on Marcy, this is going to hurt." He said stroking her hair gently, as he dipped the cloth into the warm water and brought it down on her back. She tensed and cried, "I'm sorry baby sister. It'll be over soon, I promise." He whispered as he cleaned her up, sitting her up to bandage her. Lila handed him a loose nightgown and carefully undressed her, slipping it over her head he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they sat side by side on the bed. She sniffled, leaning her head against him.

"Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?" She croaked, peering up at him, for the last year he had been so aloof.

He flushed with shame, "I'm sorry I've neglected you sister. After Mom died I was angry that you were the one she wanted to see and not me. Father saw that anger and told me it was all your fault. He told me what happens if two hero's procreate together you know, it's too much for their bodies to handle and the woman gets sick. I was so angry with you, and so I took after Father. When I went to Aurora though there was this priest there, Eliam. He told me it wasn't your fault and told me that you were all alone and all this other stuff that he could not know, he told me we had different fathers. He put his hand over my heart and made me feel what you do, the sadness and hurt, the emptiness and loneliness. It was so much, and you're only six, too young to bare that. I promised when I got back I'd be a better big brother to you. I'm sorry I didn't stop Father. I didn't realize he was so far gone."

She nodded, "It's okay, you wouldn't've been able to stop him anyway. Thank you for coming back to me, I missed you y'know."

"I do know, it was one of the things the priest showed me." He smiled sadly at her, "But I am back and I promise I'm not going anywheres."

"Mmkay." she said, yawning, she was tired even through the pain.

"I think it's time for bed." He said pulling the covers on her bed down, he helped her lay on her side as carefully as possible before tucking her in. He went to walk away but she grabbed his hand.

"Stay and read to me please." She looked up at him giving him her best puppy dog eyes even as her back throbbed and twinged. She felt so needy and clingy for any sort of positive affectionate attention, and yet also so unworthy and undeserving of it at the same time. She had missed her brother though, he used to read to her every night before mom had passed away. She scowled, Mom dying had changed everything, why couldn't Mom had fought harder to stay and protect her? When she died everything fell apart for her, she went from loved and cherished to hated and neglected. She felt a seed of guilt take root in her chest at what her brother had said, if she hadn't been born perhaps Mum would still be alive, and Logan would be happy.

He smiled, "What do you want to hear from me tonight?"

She pulled her favorite book on the Hero of Skill out and pushed it toward him, "This!" her enthusiasm was not dampened by her extreme punishment, Logan frowned.

"Do you think this is wise Marcy?" He asked quietly, sitting next to her, she rested her head on his lap and snuggled in.

"I'm not going to let that man stop me from finding my dad." She said, crossing her arms.

"You mean the King of Albion?" Logan said amusement in his voice.

"Yeah that'd be the one." She stuck her tongue out at him and he looked down at her fondly.

"What if you find him, then what?" He asked curiously.

She chewed on her lip, she hadn't given too much thought to that, she knew what she _wanted _to happen but she also knew that not everything worked out the way you wanted it to either. "I dunno. Maybe he'll take me away and I can go live with him. I could get him to love me eventually. Otherwise I don't know…" She trailed off, thinking of what the King had said earlier, what if her father didn't want her? Then what? She couldn't stay here, not with how much the King detested her.

Logan looked at her with concern then offered her an encouraging smile, "Of course he'll want you." He said before cracking the book open. "Now lets see...Ah, this one looks interesting. Lets see what your father was up to…"

"_Many people have acclaimed over his remarkable ability to aim a shot precisely from hundreds of yards away, the speed with which he draws and fires, his ability to somehow know precisely where a target is without looking, hitting them right where he wants. Both men and women have also boasted and raved about his prowess in the bedroom, saying he was the best and most considerate lover they had ever had. Not many though have ever seen how masterfully he can manipulate and scheme right under people's nose. The Hero of Skill is a cunning and quick man, both in movement of body as well as movement in mind. I am more than happy to share my one and only run-in with the legendary 'Best-Shot-in-Albion'._

_I was a very happy teenage boy, with a pretty girlfriend and a well-paying job at the blacksmith's. My father was the Duke of Brightwall, always well-dressed with a monocle that he only wore for what he thought was good fashion. He was very book smart but easily misled and very gullible; which wasn't a very good thing for a man of politics as anyone who knows anything knows. However the city was prospering quite well under my father's leadership and the people adored him, he retained his title for fifty years, but it was his twentieth year that had given him the most trouble. _

_For five months people started going missing. At first it was just those who dared to step out of the safety of the city walls, for deliveries, a walk, any reason whatsoever. My father figured it was a band of mercenaries, they enjoyed killing and looting the bodies of those they could accost in the mountainous valleys. I would be at his side when he'd send out search and rescue teams, and would also witness them hauling in body after body. Then something changed, it wasn't a sudden shift that I can recall but things started going odd. People began to go missing inside of the town, one day I had been chatting up the best seamstress and tailor in town and the next I was asking her neighbors if they had noticed anyone or anything suspicious lurking around her house or business. It took a while to notice a pattern but it was always the most competent of individuals. The ones talented and gifted in some way. Then their children started going missing. All that was left behind were worried and bereaved spouses wailing at my father to do something._

_His teams came back empty handed, looking confused and apologetic, they said everything was quiet and calm, as if the mercenaries had just disappeared. My father grew worried, he began to sleep and eat less, and the village became more and more tense as weeks passed on. Angry villagers would accost him in the streets, demanding something be done, orphaned children starved on the streets with no one to take them in. It was a mess, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. Then one day a stranger on horseback rode into the city, he looked around and banged on the blacksmith's door. Father and I watched him become more and more demanding the longer he was ignored, we decided to inform him that there was no longer a blacksmith in town before he busted the door down._

"_Sir! Excuse me!" My father rushed over to the man. He was tall with dark hair and dark eyes, and a slightly crooked nose. The man was very lean but very muscular at the same time, it didn't escape my notice that he looked me up and down with hungry eyes. "There is no blacksmith, not anymore. I'm sorry. You'll have to go to Bowerstone."_

"_No blacksmith? Bowerstone? Preposterous. Clearly there is a blacksmith if there is a shop. Now where are you hiding him? I must get what I need and be on my way, so chop chop, scurry off and find him." The man said arrogantly. _

"_I'm afraid it's true. We did have one, in fact this city used to be quite busy, unfortunately it's fallen on some hard times. Our people keep going missing you see, and we can't seem to stop it." My father told him._

"_And this is my problem how?" the stranger raised his eyebrow, clearly not caring at all. _

"_It isn't of course…" I followed my father's eyes when he paused, there was a gun resting on the man's hip, but not just any gun, a dragonstomper .48! The rarest of rare guns. I was in awe. "You're one of those adventurers are you? You think you'd be able to find my people?"_

"_And why, pray tell, would I be bothered to do that?" the man asked loftily, a put upon frown gracing his features. _

"_I don't have much to offer I am afraid-" My father began._

"_Ah, well my dear man, my services are quite expensive, so if you can't afford me then by all means I shall be heading to Bowerstone…" _

"_No!" My father quickly said, "There's some money left in the town's treasury, you can have it, 800,000 gold pieces!"_

_A light sparked in his eyes and he nodded, "Very well, pay me and I shall go find your people."_

_My father, as gullible as he was seemed to understand this was a terrible ordeal. "No. You get half now and half after you recover them." _

_The man frowned, "You must not want your villagers back that badly then, how am I supposed to know you won't stiff me upon my return?" he smiled then, "Oh I have a splendid idea. Give the money to the boy and I shall bring him along. Once the deed is done he can give me the money and lead your people back to you."_

"_My son does not know how to fight, I will not put him in the path of danger." My father said resolutely_

"_He won't be harmed, I assure you, I am quite capable of keeping my eye on one teenage boy." He grinned lewdly at me, I merely jutted my chin out._

"_I'll go father, we need our people back, don't worry I shall be careful." My father and I argued for a bit but finally I won out. I was quite excited to be on the road towards an adventure with a hero! I couldn't wait to come back and tell my girlfriend all about it. My father didn't look pleased as I rode out of the gates of Brightwall behind the young and greedy hero, but I was ever so pleased._

_Mistpeak was beautiful, as always, but I bid my steed go faster to walk alongside the hero's. When I caught up I looked over, studying his face, he was rather handsome even if I didn't swing that way. I caught him smiling and rolled my eyes, "So what's it like? Being an adventurer? Travelling the world?" I had always dreamed of doing just what he was._

_He chuckled, "I am more than just an adventurer dear boy, but alas it's not all it's cracked up to be. Though the girls...and boys...how they seem to just fall into your bed, that part is very much true." _

_I gave him a half-smirk, "I have a girlfriend, I am thinking of proposing to her, how do you think I should do it?"_

"_Monogamy?" the hero said ghastly as if I had muttered some foul language, looking utterly traumatised and offended by the mere thought of it. "I daresay boy, aren't you a little young for that? Why anyone would want to tie themselves to one post when you could have thousands is beyond me. I get bored after I bed them the first time." I couldn't help but laugh and shake my head. I was enthralled by him._

_We rode in silence for an hour before appearing before the wooded entrance of the mercenaries camp, the hero glanced my way, "Time for some fun!" with that he kicked his horse and just went galloping into the camp like a madman. I for sure thought he was a goner and considered turning back before they killed me next, however it was too late for that now. I delivered a swift kick to my own horse and followed him in, drawing my blade, though I found I needn't have bothered. In a matter of seconds this man, going as fast as possible on a horse managed to kill thirty mercenaries and counting. It boggled my mind, I caught up to him soon enough and watched in amazement, not only was he on a moving horse hitting moving targets also firing at him, oh no. The man was standing on his horse as it galloped around, he fired at the mercenaries never seeming to miss. My mouth dropped open as he shot ten mercenaries in back of him without even looking, then turned to the barrels of gunpowder blowing it up and taking down a bunch of them. The fact that he managed to hit every single target between their eyes or directly in their heart in such a predicament wasn't the most amazing thing. No it was how he dodged the incoming bullets aimed his way. Either gracefully twirling out of the way, flipping around, or even jumping, but most of the time he used his free hand to block the bullets with his metal cane. _

_I watched in stunned disbelief as he deflected bullet after bullet with it, but how was that possible? How could anyone see a bullet or even guess where it was going to hit when you didn't even see the person who fired it? It was then that it occurred to me that he was no simple adventurer, but a hero. It didn't take long for him to pick his way through the mercenaries, they were nothing to him, they might as well have been unarmed peasant children. The light was fading as we searched for the people of my village, it took us a while but finally we found them, it was terrible. They were kept in cages underground, apparently the mercenaries had been using them as slaves for their own gain. We let them out one by one and stole a bunch of the mercenaries horses, putting two adults and a child to one horse. I knew it would take days with all these people to cross the terrain of mistpeak. _

_On the second day I trotted up from the back to catch up with the hero and said, "You're a hero." The man seemed disgruntled with the title._

"_I am merely a skilled man, anyone could do what I did with practice and time. Much, much time." _

"_Teach me." I demanded of him, "I don't want to be a blacksmith, nor do I want to live in a tiny village all my life. I want to be like you." _

_The hero chuckled, "My dear boy, you don't want to be like me trust me on that. But I shall at least teach you how to shoot once we make camp for the night. The rest is on you."_

_So I waited and waited and finally the sun had set, the people were curled up together and the horses tethered to trees drinking water. The hero led me far away from the group, "We don't want to wake them, they might panic." He explained airily. After half an hour of walking I was by the bank of the river. He put a gun in my hands, not his dragonstomper, by no means, but a usable gun nonetheless. He showed me how to position, how to aim. We spent a few hours together as I took in all his words, when finally he said, "You're not half bad, you have promise, it's too bad." _

_I looked at him curiously, "What's too bad?" but before I knew it he raised the butt of his gun and brought it down on my temple. I fell unconscious. I woke the next day, dried blood caking my face, I sat up groaning only for a piece of paper to flutter down my chest. I read it, humiliated and angry. He had taken the villagers with him, for god knows what purpose, all he said was the mercenaries had given him a splendid and most profitable idea, but that he'd leave the children with me since they were of no use to him. He then thanked me for my payment. I grabbed at my waist where the money pouches had been but all of them were gone. I ran to the camp to find children crying for their mums and dads, and all but a very few of the horses gone. My horse, with the chests of gold was among the missing. I led the children the rest of the way back home, shame and anger filled me. I couldn't look my father in the eyes. I returned only with more mouths to feed. _

_Never trust the Hero of Skill._

"It seems your father has quite the reputation." Logan commented dryly, she giggled.

"Yeah seems so, but he can kick ass." She said proudly, Logan looked horrified.

"Marcy! Don't you swear! Ladies never swear. Especially not in front of Father. Now go to sleep." Logan hissed.

"Okay." She yawned as he put the book beneath her bed and stood up, when he reached the door she opened her eyes again, "Logan?"

"Yes Marcy?" He asked turning back to her.

"Will you help me find my daddy?" She asked sleepily.

"Of course I will."

"Thanks brother. Love you."

"Love you too, goodnight."

"Night."


	2. Chapter 2: The Truth Revealed

A month had passed since the sloppy attempted murder on her brother, and things had already begun to change for the worse. The King's paranoia grew worse with each day, worried that another attempt on Logan's life would be successful he became strict and controlling. Not only with her, but also with her brother, who bore his father's behavior with a grimace. Logan had complained to her often about it, and every time she had to hear it a seed of envy grew deep within her. He was lucky that someone loved him enough to go to any and all lengths to keep him safe. Logan and Walter were the only ones who cared for her and neither seemed to care too much about protecting her.

That morning seemed no different as she lounged by her window reading a rainy day away. Logan was a messy purple blur as he paced back and forth from her door to her piano, clearly annoyed. She had always found it amusing that purple was his favorite color, it was such a girly color she often teased him about it, though it never seemed to bother him much. He'd just turn up his nose and put on his most patronizing, condescending tone, "Purple is the color of royalty dear sister." She always rolled her eyes, her favorite had always been yellow, though she could never convince even her mother to do her room in yellow. The closest she got was the gold trimmings to match her crimson red room.

"He won't even let me go to Brightwall anymore! They are the most harmless simpletons that have ever graced this land in half a century!" Logan whined.

She sighed, "Now you know how it feels, to be a prisoner in your own home. I hope you like it as much as I do." She said bitterly, "You know Logan, at least he's doing it because he loves you. It's more than I can say."

"Yeah, nothing like having someone out to kill you." Logan snapped, there was a beat of silence before his shoulders drooped, "I'm being a twat, I'm sorry Marcy. I wish there was something I could do for you."

She felt a hard lump rise in her throat as heat welled in her eyes; she bit back a scoff and swallowed the words that begged to be spat out, _how would you know when you never even try?_

"I have heard of another book that might have something to do with your father, I'm having one of the servants go pick it up, so it should be here by this afternoon." Logan said lamely as a knock came at the door. Logan pulled it open and smiled warmly, "Sir Walter, good to see you." Logan waved at her before leaving, she set her book down a smile coming over her face.

"Walter!" She exclaimed jumping up, she almost hugged him but noticed he was soaking wet, dripping water all over the floor. "Come to do training? I don't have my sword but I have really good aim, I thought we could do some skill training. I'd just need a toy gun, please please please?!"

She noticed then that he didn't seem happy to see her like he usually did and she frowned quieting down, "What's wrong?" She asked looking up at him.

"I heard what happened from your Father Marcella. I didn't think you were the type of child to take things for granted but when I heard how you destroyed your sword in the middle of a temper tantrum I was proven wrong. I am so disappointed in you." He said softly but firmly.

She looked confused and then piped up, "But that's not what happened! I swear! It got destroyed by the potion that was thrown at Logan!"

Walter's eyes held such disappointment it killed her, he shook his head, "Lying will only make it worse."

"I'm not lying though, I promise Walter, why would I lie to you? I love you!" She said nearly in tears. She could feel the breath leave her body, desperately trying to convince him of the truth so he too wouldn't leave her. She couldn't lose someone else, she couldn't be all alone with nothing but the cold, suffocating loneliness, bitter jealousy and cruel hatred spewed at her.

"Why would your Father lie to me Marcy?" Walter said crossing his arms, "I respect those with integrity, which I also thought you had. That sword cost me six months of wages and you threw it away like it was nothing."

"I DIDN'T!" She yelled stamping her foot, would no one listen to her? She felt something ripping inside of her, a burning in her heart causing her to swallow hard. "Father HATES me, that's why! He's taking everything from me!"

Walter looked shocked, than a flicker of anger she had never seen before washed over his face, "That is enough now Marcella Jane, I will not stand to hear you speak of your Father in such a way. That man lost his wife and has tried his best not only to lead this country but also to raise both of you kids on his own. Which is by no means an easy feat. A little gratitude would go a long way. That man loves you, of that I know."

"And how would you know? You are never around, you don't know anything! You don't know how he looks at me, what he says to me, how he treats me! But you don't care do you? All you care about is your stupid missions and sucking up to that asshole!" She screamed her face red, anger pulsed through her even as tears streaked down her face. Inside her was a whirlwind of mixed emotions, running from betrayal, anger, hatred, resentment, fear of abandonment, panic, shame and guilt. Even as the fear of her pushing Walter away with her words clawed at her innards the anger was overpowering, pulsating with every beat of her heart. It was as if it was a raging fire inside of her and the only way to get it out was to spew how she really felt or be burned alive from the inside out.

Walter's face turned stony, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself young lady, I for one am, and I know your Mother would be as well. King Morgan is sending me on another long mission, I will be gone for a few months, perhaps when I get back your attitude will have improved. Maybe you'll also be prepared to be honest and act like the little lady your Mother would have wanted. Goodbye Marcella."

Before she could say anything he was gone and she was left standing there feeling like he had punched her in the gut. Tears of sorrow replaced those of anger and she wept bitterly at what felt like the loss of the only father-figure she currently had in her life. His words cut her deep, and she felt more alone than ever, the air felt deprived of oxygen and the walls seemed to be moving in on her. She needed air, needed to get out of the room that was now tainted with Walter's betrayal and the stench of hurt and pain he left behind. She bolted out the doors and ran to the only person she knew loved her: Her Mother. She threw the mausoleums doors open and ran to her Mother's resting place.

Two gold coffins rested upon a raised platform, she knew the one on the left encased her Mother, and she climbed on top of it. She lay on her stomach, hugging the top of the coffin as if she was clinging onto her Mom and sobbed wildly, hiccups wracking her body, "Mommy please come back. Everybody hates me and now Walter does too and I'm all alone. I miss you Mommy, please come back. I love you. I need you. I don't know what I'm going to do and I can't find daddy. Please…."

She didn't know how long she lay there pleading with her Mother and hugging her coffin as if she was clinging onto her mother herself as she tried to remember the feeling of her Mother's arms around her, the smell of her perfume and hair, the sound of her voice and the color of her eyes. All she knew was that at some point she drifted off, floating away to another world.

_She was in the mausoleum, sitting on her mother's coffin, looking around she spotted her Mom. She was standing a few feet away in front of the empty coffin that would one day hold King Morgan. "MOM!" She shrieked as she leapt down and raced over to the woman, who now appeared healthy and young. She tackled her mom in a bone-crushing hug and began to cry all over again, "Mommy! I missed you!" _

_She felt the warm comforting squeeze of arms about her as her mother held her. She squealed in delight as she was picked up and wrapped around her mother. She buried her face in the crook of her Mother's neck and breathed in deeply, trying to memorise everything about her. "Hi baby girl." her Mother spoke sadly, stroking her hair. Marcella leaned into the touch, smiling warmly up at her Mom. "I've missed you too Marcy. I'm so sorry for leaving you, and for all that you've had to endure since."_

"_Are you coming back home?" Marcy asked hopefully, beaming up excitedly._

"_My darling, you know I can't do that, no matter how badly both of us want that. I see how Morgan has treated you, it breaks my heart, but your suffering is for a reason." Her mother said softly, stroking Marcy's cheek fondly, kissing her forehead._

_She felt something plummet inside her as she heard what she knew all along, her far-fetched hopes dashed against the impenetrable stone walls of reality. "What reason?" She asked curiously. Her mother tried to set her down but she clung desperately to her Mom._

"_It's okay little one, we have a few minutes before I must leave you, your great-aunt Theresa is holding the door open." Her Mother said as she finally pried Marcy off of her._

"_Aunt Theresa? Who's that, I didn't know you had a sister Mum, or is it dad's sister?" She asked confused._

"_She is on my side of the family darling, but she has been around for many centuries. She was the sister to our direct ancestor." Sparrow answered her patiently. Marcy's face scrunched up._

"_Centuries old? That's impossible, no one can live __**that**_ _long. This isn't real then, it's just another dumb dream." Marcy said slowly her voice lilting in disappointment, shoulders sagging with resignation._

"_This is very real my darling one and it's also very true. Listen and watch closely, Theresa can only hold it open for so long, okay?" Sparrow said, "I will prove it to you…" Marcy trailed behind her Mother as she walked up to what looked like a large kneeling angel statue on an altar. She took a sharp right and kneeled before the bricks that formed the platform. "Are you watching Marcy?" Marcy nodded, and watched in amazement as her Mother pushed a brick in and the angel's hands descended revealing a guild seal, she remembered her mother had kept it on her at all times. "This is my guild seal, my most treasured possession, after your brother and you of course. You come from two hero's Marcy, you will no doubt be one as well. Take the seal Marcy, and Theresa will guide you now that I no longer can."_

_Marcy nodded and her Mother pulled the brick out again before sitting down and pulling her onto her lap. She curled up in her arms, burrowing herself into her Mother's warmth, her scent filling her nostrils. Lavender and chamomile. "Mommy, who's my daddy?" She asked suddenly._

_She heard the air leave her Mother's lungs, "I can not tell you that. It is something you must discover yourself." _

_She frowned, "But why?"_

"_Well my dear, you know those choose your own adventure novels you always loved so much? It's like that. If you choose one course of action it diverts the entire story in another direction. We of course try to divert our futures in the best possible way for ourselves and for others. Destiny and fate are much like those books. Where if you choose one thing, another thing changes and the outcome can be bad or good." Her mother explained gently, all the while playing with her hair._

"_So if you told me, that'd change something in the future?" Marcy asked trying to follow along._

"_Yes, just like that my smart little birdy." Her mother said fondly, kissing the top of her head._

"_Will I ever find him?" She asked timidy, hoping to at least get an answer to that._

"_He will find you." Her Mother answered, "And when he does Marcy I beg of you to be patient with him but also to be careful around him."_

"_Why?" she asked, "Is he like Morgan?"_

_Her Mother appeared to be thinking about this for a while, "No. At first glance you may see quite a lot of similarities, but if you look deeper you can see there is a huge difference. That's why you must be patient with him, look deeper than the surface my darling."_

"_Okay Mommy, I'll try," she was silent for a minute, "Did you love him?"_

_She heard her mother chuckle, "I do not know if I would call it love, but it was something more than friends. I'm not sure what to call it. Once I got to see behind his mask, through the darkness, I could see what he originally was, it was jut a fleeting glimpse. However it was enough for me to care for him, enough to forgive him for what he had done to me all those years ago when we first met."_

"_Then you had me." Marcy said knowingly, with a smile on her face._

"_Yes, you were the greatest, most precious and wonderful gift he ever gave me. Something his money couldn't buy, for which I am eternally grateful for, even if we didn't get to spend much time together. I wouldn't trade you for anything my love." Her mother spoke warmly, looking down at her with a smile on her face._

_For a few minutes they sat cuddled together in silence, drinking in the others presence. Marcy for once felt at peace, basked in the love she had craved for so much, but it was over much too soon for her liking. "It is time my darling. I must go now."_

_Marcy frowned but tried not to cry, wanting to be brave and be like a lady for her Mom, "Can I come with you?" She asked. Her mother shook her head, she knew she'd say no but it had been worth a shot. "I love you Mom."_

"_I love you too Marcy. Remember what I showed you, and what I said about your Father. And remember I love you. Tell Logan no matter how old he gets or what he does, he'll always be my sweet buttercup." Sparrow said as they stood, Marcy watched her Mother fade, her lips trembling but not letting a tear slip until her mother was gone. _

Her swollen eyes cracked open, she wiped the drool and dried tears from her face as she sat up. Her side was sore from laying on the hard stone of her Mother's casket but she slid off anyway. There was a strange emptiness inside of her, as if some great burden had been taken from her and left nothing but a void inside. She turned to the angel on the altar and felt her heart thudding. A thrill of fear went through her, goosebumps raising on her arms as a chill slide down her spine. Was it real? Could it possibly be that her Mother truly reached out to her in her dreams? There was only one way to find out.

Taking a deep breath she walked up to the pillar and bent down, she scrunched up her face trying to recall which stone it was. Finding the right one she put all her weight into moving it, she jumped back in shock when it moved. A clunking sound resonated inside the walls, as if a large weight had fallen inside them, and then the sound of moving stone. She nearly screamed as the hands on the angel descended, the loud clanking of the chains echoing loudly in the chamber, jarring her. Finally it was silent once more and she felt her nerves calm, she looked at the guild seal in awe, standing before it she couldn't believe her eyes. She felt a warmth pool inside of her at what this meant and she turned to look at her Mom's coffin, "Thank you Mom, I love you."

She stepped forward slowly, almost afraid and breathed in before grasping the seal, nothing happened at first, she frowned, was something supposed to happen? She had expected it to but maybe she was wrong, or maybe she had lost her hero powers. As she contemplated this however she noticed a weak glowing around the edges of the seal. It seemed to grow brighter and brighter, as it did she felt the seal vibrate, the gentle hum of it filling her ears and making her fingers go numb. The light turned blinding and she blinked, rearing back only to feel a great force sucking her towards the seal. She fought it at first, fear running through her, but it was her Mom's, surely it wouldn't hurt her? Either way she wasn't strong enough to fight forever.

Her eyes had closed as she had given herself over to the force exerting its will upon her, but now it was deathly quiet, and there was nothing in her hands. She opened her eyes slowly and looked around, her eyes and head swivelling about. She was in a field but all she could see was the grass, a strange white mist lay all about her, blocking out the sky and the rest of her surroundings. It was strangely cold wherever she was but not uncomfortably so, and the air felt empty, as if devoid of life itself. It made her uncomfortable, and unsettled, like she was unwittingly intruding in a place she should not be.

"Hello?" She called out softly, remembering her Mother mentioning an Aunt Theresa. "Aunt Theresa?"

"It has been many years since I was referred to as such." A woman's voice, warm with a whispery quality to it spoke behind her, she jumped nearly shrieking before whirling around. The woman was dressed in red, white and purple gypsy clothing, her hood covering her eyes, "Hello little one."

"Don't _do that._" Marcy huffed, holding a hand to her thudding heart, scrutinizing the woman as she chuckled, she was short with a long face, she couldn't make out much. She cautiously stepped closer. "So you are my Aunt Theresa?"

"I am. I raised your Mother from the time she was little like you and guided her through her greatest adventure. And now it's time I guided you." Theresa said, Marcy smiled, she liked the sound of Theresa's voice it was comforting, like warm honey tea next to a fireplace on a cold rainy day.

"Are you really as old as Mom says you are. Cause no offense but you don't _look _hundreds of years old." Marcy said, bravely taking another step forward to peer under her hood, she could tell the older lady was smiling, then that's when she saw her eyes. They were pure white. "What happened to your eyes?"

"I am older than even your Mother knows. I have lived a very long time and have seen many things pass. As for my eyes that is a rather long story, Jack of Blades cut them out when I refused to tell him the whereabouts of my younger brother." Theresa answered quietly.

"Jack of Blades?!" She said in awe, looking up at her aunt with large eyes, she had of course read many books on him, at first she had admired his way with swords but when she found out he wasn't a man and she could not be as masterful as him the fascination died. Now she looked upon what he had done to her aunt and felt a wave of shame at her previous admiration of Jack.

"Never fear child, you are not the first, nor will you be the last person to find themselves enraptured by the likes of him. He is long since been vanished and no harm can come of admiring him from a youthful point of view. It is only when reality shows its ugly face does the truth let itself be known. Jack of Blades was a skilled being from the Void, but he was incapable of anything but evil." Theresa said to her bowing her head.

"Good thing he's dead then. Couldn't have been that awesome anyway if a human could kill him." She scoffed, Theresa laughed for the first time in a long time.

"You do remind me of your father you know," Theresa commented, "You look so much like him, nothing like Sparrow, no Logan looks like her."

She perked up at hearing about her father, nearly beaming with pride, "I do? Do you know my father? Who is he?" She asked excitedly.

"I believe your Mother has informed you of the reason I can not divulge that information but I have met him quite a few times over the years. He is almost as old as I." She said quietly.

"Is he immortal like you?" She asked in awe, something that seemed to be happening a lot to her in the last few minutes.

"He is immortal but not in the same way as I. His immortality comes at a great price, one he must pay yearly to remain young. He is still capable of dying if mortally wounded but will not age like a normal human would. He looks as young as he did the day he made his deal with the shadows, the day he condemned Oakvale to death." Theresa informed her gently.

So many questions buzzed in her head as she tried to make sense of everything her Aunt had said. Her father was immortal but at a price. She frowned at Theresa's words, thinking of what type of man condemned an entire village to death so he could live. She didn't know what was worse: what her father had done or the fact that she could not muster up any true feeling of remorse for it. She was merely happy her father was immortal. He'd never leave her.

"Child, be careful, your father may disappoint you." Theresa chided her gently, "Do not make him out to be anything than he is."

She frowned, what was that supposed to mean? "Will I like him? Will he like me?" She asked nervously, chewing her lip.

"It is too soon to tell, but heed your mother's words and be cautious around him, with him nothing is as it seems." Theresa answered softly. She nodded dumbly, why couldn't anything just be simple in her life?

"What do I do now? Where are we?" She asked once more looking around.

"You must find your father, for better or worse, it is imperative that you do. Do not give up, he will find you when the time is right. As for where we are it is called 'No Mans Land' A place between the spiritual and physical side of life. Any time you have need of me, all you must do is hold your guild seal and think of me. You will appear here and I shall come. It requires great will power for us to meet here, and my energy is draining for now. Find your father Marcella, we shall meet again soon." Theresa said, fading just as her mother had, with that another great burst of white light consumed her and she felt her knees hit the solid stone floors of the mausoleum, pain lanced up her legs as her knees scraped. She hissed at the blood, she'd have to get better at teleporting, or whatever that had been.

She straightened herself and dusted off her dress, trying desperately to flatten the wrinkles even as blood dripped down her legs. She walked with a limp out of the crypt, not bothering to look back. She merely tucked the guild seal under her dress and made her way across the garden doing her best not to make eye contact with anyone lest they try to start a conversation with her. She finally made it to her room and pulled out the seal placing it under the bed. "Ah, yes, so it's you then." Jasper's voice made her jump. She hadn't noticed him in the corner checking things off his clipboard.

"Don't tell anyone, please." She pleaded with him, he shook his head, "Of course I won't Princess." She smiled even as he winced at her knees.

"Here let me help you with that. Looks like you took a nasty fall." Jasper said softly washing off the blood and dirt caked on her legs and knees. She hissed as it stung but kept as still as possible until he was done bandaging them.

"Your brother wanted me to inform you that King Morgan and himself would be gone for a few days. He stopped by himself but you were nowhere to be found. He did however leave this." Jasper said pulling out a heavy book. It was pitch black with gold trim, flourishes and letters, she took it and fingered the parchment.

"Thanks Jasper." She gave him a soft smile.

"Any time Princess, is there anything you need?" He asked straightening up some things in the room the maids seemed to constantly forget. Her stomach grumbled and she blushed. "Ah yes, I shall have dinner brought up to you. I shall go inform the cooks right now, have a good night."

"You too Jasper, see ya tomorrow!" She called out, excited to be getting into her book, maybe this was the one that would help her. She flipped through the tome entitled, "Guns for all Occasions." but found only one mention of the hero of skill. She absent-mindedly muttered a quiet thanks to the maid who laid down her dinner of mutton, potatoes and boiled carrots mixed with celery. It was under a picture of a beautiful looking gun that even she admired, below the large picture were 5 smaller ones of the same make and model of gun just slightly different than the others. She read the caption, "_The Dragonstomper .48 is the rarest and most powerful of all hand guns, with their intricate design and devilish glow they are the dream of many gunslingers. Sadly, all but one are owned by the Hero of Skill, who disappeared many years ago. No one has seen the owner or the guns since. One is still in circulation, but no one knows its whereabouts."_

She studied the guns as if to memorize them; this could help her but only if she already had a clue who it was. Not to mention who said her Father still owned all of them? She sighed, it was better than nothing, she'd just have to keep her eye out, though the probability that any of these rare guns would just happen to walk through the castle door and show themselves long enough for her to see it was extremely low. She felt the familiar ache of frustration in her throat and head, she set the book aside and began to eat, finding herself ravenous as she devoured the food. She fell asleep soon after pushing her food tray to the side and curling up on her side.

_**The next day…**_

The next morning she dressed less formally, she had a dream the night before, it showed her how she could get the toy gun she so desperately wanted. It was simple, at least in her dream it had seemed so. With King Morgan and her brother away she was no longer under a watchful eye, it would be simple to sneak out of the castle on the back of a cart or when the guards changed shifts. All she had to do was wait then she could wander free in Bowerstone Market and find the toy gun she needed. She ate her breakfast in silence before racing down to the courtyard, it was nearly empty. She frowned, of course, with the King gone there'd be no court today, but that was alright she'd find a way out regardless.

She looked up at the clear blue sky and sighed, hiding behind a parasol was out, her eyes fell to the walls but they were too steep to climb. Then in her mind's eye she saw the back garden wall, it was tall but scaleable, it was an easy drop onto the roofs from there and there were less guards out back. She ran to the back of the gardens, and looked around, when she was confident no one was watching she climbed up the stone fencing and over onto the opposite ridge. Her heart thudded in her chest as she looked down, it was a far drop if she missed the roof, or if she slipped and fell off one. She swallowed dryly, it was far more frightening now that she was up here then it had seemed when she originally thought of it. She looked back, no one was watching, she couldn't turn back now.

She slowly shuffled sideways to be closer to a roof, thankfully it was so close she could reach her arm out and touch it, but her hands were gripped tightly to the banister. Breathing in deeply she tried to steady her legs which felt like jello, and were trembling slightly. She had only one shot to make this work, she wondered how long she'd feel the pain for before dying if she fell. She shook her head, words from the day before ringing in her mind, "_You are a hero." _The guild seal activating proved it, she could do this after all she had heard enough of her Mom's stories to know she had scaled and jumped much farther. All she had to do was be steady, careful and watchful.

Straightening her back in a show of confidence, she bent her knees and focused solely on the segment of roof she wanted to land on. She took a flying leap, and although she did indeed land on the roof she overshot by a foot and began to slide down the side of the pitched roof. Panic flooded her as her hands shot out to find purchase on the roof tiles, within a foot of the ledge she finally managed to stop her rapid descent and just lay there still and silent. She gasped for breath and rested until her breathing returned to normal and the adrenaline shaking her arms and legs calmed before looking up. She began to slowly climb a few feet up then over until she was at the front of the house, directly over the open balcony. She turned around so her back was towards the street and she was facing the garden wall and began to slowly dangle from the roof. She closed her eyes and let go of the shingles, groaning when her legs and feet collided with the balcony as a jarring vibration of pain shot up to her hips. She lay there curled up until nothing but a dull aching soreness remained, thankful no one seemed to have heard or noticed her escaping.

Stiffly she got up and as quietly as she could slipped through the door and down the stairs of the home. It had a musty smell and everything in it was beyond well-worn, these people were beyond poor, and thankfully not home. She stepped out of the back door and appeared into the street of Bowerstone Old Quarter through an alleyway. She thought about making her way to the Market but realized in the year since she had been cooped up in the castle she had forgotten the way. Instead she began to wander the cobbled and disrepaired streets of the Old Quarter, searching for toy vendors, her eyes lit up as she saw one. Dangling in the stall were all sorts of toys, bows, horses, teddy bears and swords. There was a bin of goodies in the corner she began to shift through when a middle-aged man dressed in filthy disheveled clothing glared down at her.

She stopped and looked up at him, "Whatcha lookin' fer?" He grumbled, arms crossed.

She timidly put her hands behind her back, "A toy gun."

"An' you got the gold fer it, do yah? Well?" He said tapping his foot in irritation.

She realized the one flaw in her plan, how could she have forgotten to get gold? Such a stupid mistake, but it was too late now. She huffed, "Well I don't have any but I promise I could bring you some tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow ain't good 'nuff, no gold no toy. Now scram it kid, and don't let me catch yah 'round here again. I know how yous kids are, waiting til us hard-workin' folks aren't lookin' then just takin' what you want." He grumbled angrily. She just nodded and walked away feeling defeated and angry. She could feel his eyes on her for quite a while before she sat on the steps of a house. She didn't know what she was going to do now, no way would she be able to get back here again and she hardly wanted to repeat jumping off the banister again.

She sat there for a while just watching other kids playing in the street, running in and out of homes to get drinks or food. That is when the idea hit her, people kept their doors unlocked, one of the houses must have a toy gun in it. She knew stealing was wrong but she was left with no other option, she just _had _to get a toy gun, after all how would she impress her father enough to keep her when she, or like Theresa and her Mom had said, he found her? These kids were lucky to have a family, she didn't have anything, so it felt. She walked back to the more enclosed area she had come from and found a house that had toys in the front yard. She looked back and forth and saw no one. She entered the home and listened carefully, it was empty. She searched the drawers and dressers until she found a little box with writing on it, "_Happy Birthday Tommy." _

She carefully opened it to find a packaged toy gun, with perfectly rounded stones meant to be bullets. She slipped the gun and stones into her dress and shoved the box back into the cabinet. She felt a seed of guilt nestle into her chest but she had no time to dwell on it, she had to get out of there in case someone got back. She smiled, she had her toy gun! She was so excited, all she had to do was get back to the castle. In her excitement she forgot to listen before she ran down the stairs; as she jumped down the last two steps she heard a shout, "Hey! What are you doing in here? GUARDS!" She blanched and ran out the back door. She could hear the man shouting the direction she went off in as she sped down the alley turning right, then left, trying to lose them in the maze that was Bowerstone's back alley's.

The clicking of the guards boots and their angry shouts grew farther and farther away until finally she had to stop for breath. She leaned against the side of a building breathing fast and hard, a stitch in her side. When she could finally breathe without pain she pushed off the building and looked out the alleyway, she had no idea where she was, a spike of fear accompanied the realization that she was lost. She tried to calm herself down, eventually she'd have to stumble across something she recognized. Instead of walking towards the street she turned around and walked further into the alleyway until it made a sharp left turn. She could hear voices up ahead, male ones, she froze assuming they were guards, she pressed herself to the wall and listened.

"So, are you going to tell me why we are meeting in a dark alley or what?" One man said

"Have you heard about what is going on up at the dwellers camp?" The other asked

"No, why would anyone care? They're just a bunch of mountain freaks. What's it matter?"

"Well, there have been riots, violent riots. Last night they attacked Brightwall. Trying to send some sort of message to the King."

"What? Why?"

"Same reason the King and Prince are travelling. From what I've heard Prince Logan has reached the age for a bride. Unfortunately Albion's royalty are in royal purgatory. King Morgan is having a hard time convincing other Monarchs' to relinquish their daughters as suitable brides."

"What's this got to do with the dwellers? I hardly see the connection between our Prince's love life and the riots."

"If you'd let me finish-the King has been selling off lands, both their resources and people, as part of a male dowry of some sort."

A raucous laugh filled the alley, "That has to be most embarrassing for the Prince, is he not handsome enough to win over his own bride?" She felt a flare of anger at the man's words, her brother was amazing, any woman would be lucky to have him, even if she felt conflicted about it. If her brother got married surely his attention would be on his new family, and where would that leave her?

"S'why they're trying to keep it a secret, but the Dwellers aren't happy with being traded off. Who knows what a new monarch will have done with them or their land."

"Still….what has this got to do with us? Brightwall and the Dwellers are a fair bit away from us."

"Do you think anyone wants those lands and people? No, King Morgan will have to sweeten the pot. Who knows what he'll do next. He could come for any of us next. I don't know about you but I have family all over…." There was a tense silence before the man continued, "People from Brightwall and Mourningwood might not be the smartest but they see the writing on the wall. They are planning riots of their own, protests. They're planning to bring it directly to the castle so they can't be ignored."

"Avo's tear! This is not good. What do you think will happen?"

"Not sure, but the King isn't in the mood to listen, nothing good can come from this. Especially when this morning I heard the guards talking to one another about a load of explosives going missing at Mourningwood Fort."

"Perhaps we should take our families and just leave-"

"No, I won't. The protestors are right, King Morgan has no right to take our lands and pawn them off! We may not like King Morgan but Albion is ours. We built it! Not the Monarch, but us! Why should we flee?"

"What are you saying Arthur?"

"Simple, I plan to stand with them, help from the inside. Oh I won't be foolish enough to be in the midst, but I can supply information from the castle to them. I am the King's personal servant after all. And you watch the ports don't you? You know what and who is coming and going from this nation of ours. We could use your help as well."

"I don't know...it seems rather dangerous, I have children you know. What if we're found out? Surely we'll be killed for treason!"

"No one will ever have to know. The protestors will never know our names, we can send information anonymously. There is what they call a dead drop in Industrial, in one of the sewers by the Tavern. We simply write what we know and leave it hidden there."

"Still, it seems like an unnecessary risk-"

"I didn't take you for a coward boy, but I fear if you will just lay down while our families our sold off like cattle, then perhaps you're less of a man than I thought you were."

"Now that's uncalled for! I am just worried for everyone's sake! Look, give me a few days to think about it."

"Very well but I expect an answer in two days."

"Okay. I'll meet you back here in two days then."

She breathed out as she heard their footsteps fading into the distance, but she kept still just in case. She was just about to turn the corner when suddenly she felt a rough hand grasp her arm hard, she cried out in pain as she was turned around, "There you are you little thief!" It was a guard, she gulped.

"Now where are your parents, hm? Or shall we just take you directly to the jail?" the man said coldly.

She felt a wave of fear crash down inside her chest and she trembled, "N-no. You can't! Don't you know who I am?!"

"Of course we do, a little no good, worthless thief." He spat.

"I'm Princess Marcella, and I demand to be taken back to the castle immediately to face the Regent himself." She said in her most authoritative tone, bolstering herelf up with false courage.

The guard laughed, "Oh sure you are. You here that boys? This here is the princess!" the others laughed along with him.

"If you don't take me to the Regent you'll be sorry." She hissed, though she knew in the end she'd be the sorry one.

"Don't worry love, we'll take you to see the Regent, and he'll get to dole out your punishment. I do hope he sends you to the reformatory." The guard grinned as he began to drag her out of the alley and up the pathway to the castle. She had been in Bowerstone Market.

She struggled to keep up, tripping over her feet many times as they dragged her mercilessly the mile to the castle, she was sweating and bleeding by the time they dropped her in the throne room in front of the Regent. A man whom she had never met, there was never a cause before to have one, her Mother or Father had always been present. She looked up at him with exhausted eyes, sweat dripping down her forehead and her knees bleeding where she had fallen and gotten dragged five feet on the rough cobblestone road.

The man wore a tall top hat with goggles, a white and black suit with what looked like wolf fur on the collar. He had pirate boots on, a gun holster on his thigh and a bronze walking stick twirling in his hand. He had black hair and eyes to match, with a heart-shaped birth mark just below his eyes, and upturned lips formed into an arrogant smirk. "My, my, my, what do we have here?"

"Your grace! This girl here was caught stealing from a home in the Old Quarter." The guard who had dragged her answered. The Regent looked bored as he rested his cheek against his fist.

"And why is this my concern? Find the girls parents and have them pay for whatever it was she took." He waved them away dismissively.

"We would your grace but she claims to be the Princess." The guard answered nervously. The regent suddenly straightened and for once looked down at her, his eyes flashing surprise and interest. He frowned at the shape she was in.

"And do you always treat royalty with such harshness? Whatever did you do to our fair Princess?" The Regent's eyes glittered dangerously, his body shifting from lax to guarded, almost like someone ready to strike. She noticed how the guards seemed to step back as they also sensed the danger.

"Your Grace-this is the Princess?" The main guard gasped shocked, "We thought she was kidding, trying to get out of trouble….We meant no harm!"

"I do hate to repeat myself, but I suppose it's my own mistake to think you had enough intellect to decipher my words. Let me rephrase it for you, in simpler terms your small mind can understand." The Regent said smiling, "What did you do to her."

They all sputtered, none of them wanting to answer until suddenly the Regent moved with such speed and grace it was unimaginable. One second he was smiling patiently the next he had his gun out and a deafening roar echoed in the empty throne room as the gun went off. She shrieked in fear and stumbled to the floor, wincing at the pain in her knees as they collided with the stone. She looked back as a thud was heard. One of the guards in the back lay on the floor with a hole in his forehead seeping blood. The other guards froze in horror, she bit back a laugh as one pissed himself. She could feel no sympathy for them when they had caused her so much pain and humiliation.

"When I ask a question I expect an answer. I'll give you to the count of three to answer before I waste another bullet." The main said in a silky lilting voice.

"Lenny dragged her sir! She fell a few times, he was walking fast and when she fell he just walked faster not letting her get up." One of the other guards answered.

"I see. As guards to the throne is it not your duty to make sure the royal family is protected at all costs?" The Regent spoke quietly.

"Yes sir, your Regency, grace...highness." Lenny stuttered fearfully.

"And yet you abused the Princess….I dare say you have not only failed in your duty but you have also committed a most grievous crime." The Regent said stroking the top of his gun delicately.

"Please...I didn't know...have merc-" Lenny began before another gun shot echoed and Lenny fell down next to his mate. The others turned tail and ran, but the Regent merely shot them in the legs without blinking and commanded the other guards to take them to the prison. Finally it was just the Regent and herself in the room, she peered nervously up at him, her gaze landing on the gun. An instant recognition flashed in her eyes.

"A dragonstomper .48!" She breathed amazed, as her eyes lit up.

"And how would you know that Princess?" The Regent asked her with a raised eyebrow.

She shrugged, biting her lip, "Just been interested in guns lately. My brother reads to me at night, and I love the Hero of Skill. He's awesome! Did you know he took out an entire pirate crew by himself?! He also eliminated an entire camp of mercenaries and took their hostages for his own! I mean that's pretty bad ass-" She flushed deep red as the curse word crossed her lips her eyes widening as she clapped her hand over her mouth, "Oh please don't tell Kin-Father that I swore, please!"

She raised her eyes to his but only found amusement in them and she relaxed, "Anyway, the Hero of Skill supposedly has five of the six dragonstompers ever made. Although it also says that he and the guns were never seen or heard from again." She said ending with a sad and disappointed lilt in her voice.

"I see. Yes the Hero of Skill is also my favorite as well. His exploits are quite grand are they not?" The Regent said smirking a little as his head tilted to the side as if studying her at a different angle, "I'm afraid I have forgotten my manners, Princess, forgive me. My name is Reaver, I am a friend of your father, and once upon a time your Mother."

"You knew my Mom?" She said with awe, she already felt herself warming up to this man.

He nodded, "Yes when she was younger."

She looked him up and down confused, "You don't look _that _old."

He merely smirked, "Why thank you my dear, but sadly looks can be deceiving, I do keep up on my beauty treatments though." He winked at her, then looked her over again, "Talking about beauty treatments I dare say you should get cleaned up before supper. We shall be eating together in the dining hall. Now chop chop, go get changed. We still have to talk about your little...excursion today."

She paled, would he punish her? Like the King? Or worse, tell the king? She nodded absent-mindedly and ran off to find Lila. After a quick bath and a change of clothes she was sat in the dining hall, food already on the table waiting for Reaver nervously. She fiddled with her napkin as she tapped her foot, her eyes slowly raising as Reaver entered the room and sat down. He draped a napkin over his chest and began piling food on his plate. She was amazed at how much food he had and yet how skinny he was.

"So Princess, stealing? What could royalty need to steal from the poor? Besides their gold." Reaver said chuckling at his own joke.

Her face turned red and she just shrugged. How could she possibly explain any of it? If she told what she stole, it would lead to why and that would lead to explaining about how the King hated her and she really did not want to get into that with anyone. It was embarrassing and too painful. He may not be her real father but he was the only one she had ever known. She picked at the little bit of food she had put on her plate too worried about her punishment to eat. "Are you going to tell Father?" She asked quietly not daring to raise her eyes.

"I ought to, the King should know why his guards are dead and why his little Princess isn't acting like a lady." Reaver taunted.

She felt her throat tighten and she swallowed thickly. The King was going to kill her, she just knew it, "Please don't tell." She whispered anxiously. There was a heavy silence and she could feel Reaver's eyes on her.

"I suppose I can keep this our little secret for now." Reaver finally answered and she gave him a nervous smile.

"Thanks." She began to eat a little more freely than frowned, "What kind of name is Reaver anyway? Is that a nickname or did your Mum actually give you that name?"

Reaver snorted and rolled his eyes, "My dear you are an inquisitive one. Alas I haven't told my real name to anyone in a very long time."

She nodded and looked at him again, "So do you know the Hero of Skill? Is that how you got one of those guns?"

His eye brows raised, "You really are obsessed aren't you?" She blushed and shrugged, "Alas, we have met." She brightened and straightened up.

"Really? Where is he? What's his name? What's he like? What does he look like?" She spewed out excitedly. Reaver's eyebrows shot up in alarm.

"Why do you want to know my darling?" He asked quietly, his eyes hard and glinting as if she was on dangerous ground. She chewed her lip but knew better than to tell the family secret she just shook her head.

"No reason, I'm just...interested is all." She murmured but they both knew that wasn't the real reason, thankfully Reaver said no more.

They ate in silence, she avoided his eyes as he stared at her every so often, finally just as the meal was wrapping up she asked, "How long will you be here?"

"A few days. Now I think it's time you went to bed, so off with you now. I have a country to take care of." He clapped his hands and the servants began clearing off the table, she sighed and went to her bedroom. She lay awake, unable to sleep as her mind kept circling around Reaver. He was keeping something from her, she knew this, otherwise why would he care that she was so interested in the Hero of Skill? Yet she knew she'd get nowheres with him, especially since she was holding out on him as well. As she closed her eyes once more all she could see was the replay of what happened in the throne room. It was this memory that puzzled her even more, but finally the pull of sleep was too strong and she was out.

_**The next day….**_

"Come on! We have to stop it, before it reaches the town!" She cried out pulling out her gun as she dashed forward, dodging the spiky tail as it embedded into the ground with a shaking force and rolling out of the way of its firey breath.

"Be careful Marcy! We should split up! You follow it and I'll head to the gates so it can't escape!" Elliot called as he surged forward with his sword drawn.

They were chasing Channun, a fire-breathing dragon of epic proportions, the beast had been riled up for a while now and as often as they seemed to conquer it Channun seemed immortal. She ran forward as it closed in on Elliot, she knew a sword was a poor choice of weapon to use against a dragon, for the mere fact that anyone that close would merely become a dragon treat. She aimed her gun at the head of the ravenous beast and fired. It pitched forward and slumped to the ground unmoving, she let out a whoop of victory but Elliot seemed displeased.

"There's no way a small little stone can take down a dragon that big." He argued with a pout on his face.

"It's dead Elliot we did it, and you didn't even have to wave your stick around." She called out; as much as she enjoyed playing pretend with Elliot this same argument happened often.

"This is no mere stick my Princess, it is the great sword of Avo, sworn to defend the people and defeat any foes who stand against her!" He said matter-of-factly his chest puffing out.

"And it, along with you, would have been a nice little snack for Channun had he gotten close enough for you to even use that sword." She returned, crossing her arms.

"And I'm supposed to believe a _girl_ could so easily beat a dragon by herself?" He said in disbelief, his hands on his hips.

"Well I'm not the one who still wets the bed am I?" She snapped scathingly as her brow furrowed. As if being a girl was some sort of handicapped, obviously she was just as powerful as any man. She did take down a dragon all by herself after all.

Before Elliot could reply a chuckle could be heard from behind her, she turned to find Reaver watching them with amusement. "Now my dear, that's not very sportsman-like is it, going right for the jugular like that, is it? Although I must say I quite adore your strategy."

"Yeah! What he said!" Elliot said, his head turning up as if he had just won some victory over her with the help of male solidarity.

"On the other hand my dear chap, a gun can most certainly take down a dragon. One only has to aim for the precise spot. You see dragon's eyes are their weak spot." He winked down at her and she grinned.

"Oh please, that little thing take out such a large creature?" Elliot scuffed with a sour look on his face.

"I dare say someone is a poor loser. I have watched many men fall to the power of a gun." Reaver said his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah men but not dragons! Plus she didn't even aim it correctly. I mean what does a girl know about guns anyway?" Elliot whined angrily.

She frowned, a ball of anger in her chest, she raised the gun and ruthlessly fired a shot, landing a stone in Elliots' groin. The boy collapsed with his hands between his legs moaning in pain, she called, "Oh sorry, guess my aim was off after all."

She turned back to Reaver who wasn't even trying to hide his smirk as he peered down at her with pure interest, "That was quite a shot Princess."

"Yeah I'm getting better! I've been practicing. I can almost get moving targets now." She said proudly.

"Now we'll have to rectify that won't we? What kind of marksman would I be if I didn't teach our lovely Princess how to defend herself properly with her chosen weapon? Come now, follow me." Reaver said straightening as he began to walk further into the garden, stopping at a statue near the gazebo.

Her eyes lit up with excitement as she raced off after him, he had such long legs even at a normal pace he was much faster than her. Elliot dragged behind sullenly but she ignored him in favor of a shooting lesson. Reaver nodded towards the birds, "They will be our targets Princess, now let's see you shoot one first."

She raised her toy gun and aimed it, studying how the birds moved she chose one that was merely hopping around on the statue's arm. She pulled the trigger but it hit the arm of the statue a few centimeters below the birds feet. She frowned and huffed, clearly embarrassed. Reaver clicked his tongue and stepped behind her. He kneeled to her height and pulled her back against his chest. He was surprisingly warm and had a scent of pine and cigars, she liked it, her shoulders released the tension she felt. He wrapped he positioned her feet on the ground correctly and turned her hips before pointing out the bird they were aiming for. He placed his hands over hers and positioned the gun, it looked a little over-corrected but she let it remain, "Now fire." She did and yelled out with joy as the stone hit it's mark with a loud and indignant squak from the bird.

"Now try on your own, and remember, always a little bit to the right. Guns have recoil which will mess with the trajectory of the bullet, or in this case stone. Your toy barely has one so don't point it too far right." Reaver explained. She tried and tried again, failing twice before finally succeeding many times in a row.

"I did it!" She looked up at him with pride and happiness shining in her eyes.

"Indeed. How would you like to fire a real gun?" He asked

Her jaw dropped before she jumped up and down, "Yes yes yes, please! I'd love it please please please!"

He rolled his eyes and kneeled down once more pulling her back against him, however she adjusted herself this time. He slipped the dragonstomper into her hands, she nearly dropped it it was much heavier than she expected but she merely tightened her grasp. She felt Reaver covering her own hands with his, "I will help you, the recoil is significant on a real gun and even more so on a powerful pistol such as this." Her small finger found the trigger and he told he to aim for a bird, she didn't think twice, after all the birds constantly pooped all over her windows.

A loud blast nearly defeaned her as the gun jerked harshly in her hands, had it not been for Reaver's steadying grip it would have flew back and injured her. She was thankful he was there even if at first she had been a tad disappointed at not doing it herself. Her ears rang as she rubbed them, but Reaver tugged her hands down and shook his head, saying a little louder than normal, "Let them be, you'll be fine in a minute." So she waited and sure enough the ringing sound gradually faded.

"That was amazing!" She gasped out, her hands could still remember the vibrations, and hums of the sheer power in her hands. It had sent a thrill of adrenaline up her spine and woke her up when she hadn't know she was sleeping inside a little bit. Elliot looked a bit envious but when he went to ask for a turn Reaver shot him a withering look. She frowned and took Elliot's hand in hers and watched the man roll his eyes.

"Oh very well, get over here boy, and don't get any of that filth of yours on my gun." He said with clear irritation, she pondered over this man's seeming mood swings and just shrugged. He was odd that was for sure but she smiled at the smile on Elliot's face as he fired the gun. Reaver quickly placed it back in his holster and straightened up, "Now it's time for you to head home, dinner will soon be served, now off with you." Elliot piped his thanks, waved goodbye and ran towards the castle doors.

"Get ready for dinner Princess." Reaver turned away before saying, "You have the makings of a marksman-or woman in your case. You should be trained."

She scoffed, "As if father would ever allow that. After all I'm just the Princess, and should be more worried about being a lady and etiquette lessons than any weaponry. After all guns do so clash with table manners and posture lessons."

"I imagine they do. I could have a word with your father, if you think it'd help." He offered airily.

"Don't. Trust me. I'll see you in a bit, thanks for the lesson Mister Reaver." She smiled and dashed forward throwing her arms around his waist, she could feel him freeze and stiffen.

"Yes, yes now go, shoo!" He said pulling her off him and nudging her with his cane in the direction of the stairs leading to her room. She scampered off and ran into her room grinning madly.

"My Princess, I haven't seen you this happy in a long time." Lila commented as she pulled some dresses out of the closet for her to choose from.

"I know, Mister Reaver is amazing! Keep a secret?" She asked as Lila nodded, "Well he taught me to shoot a gun properly and he even let me shoot his dragonstomper!"

Lila's eyes widened, "That is quite an honor Princess, I've heard Mister Reaver so much as shoots anyone who glances at his weapon."

She giggled and shrugged, "He is pretty cool. I wish he was my dad." She replied absent-mindedly, but an empty pang ran through her, a hollowness appearing inside her chest, reminding her of her aching loneliness. She breathed in deeply and pushed it aside. She had but a day left with Reaver she wouldn't waste it being morose over being lonely, there would be plenty of time left for that when he was gone.

She picked out the pretty white and lilac dress her mother bought her a few month before passing and she impatiently wiggled about as Lila did her hair up, looking down fondly at the little girl, but there was a sadness in her eyes as well. "What's the matter Lila?"

"Oh nothing sweetie, just thinking is all." The maid replied, Marcy glanced a look up at her and studied her blue eyes and blonde hair, she had delicate but homely features. She was the warmest woman she had known besides her mom and she was grateful that she had her.

"You know I'm sure there are some laws or somethin' about lying to your boss, or at least the Princess…" She began looking at her, Lila laughed outright.

"Well your highness, I was just thinking about when you found your father how much I'd miss you, yet how happy I'd be as well." Lila bit her lip than sighed, "I hate how the King treats you." She whispered as if someone was spying on them.

Marcy grabbed Lila's hand as it descended with the comb and embraced it. She was quiet for a beat, "Maybe you can come with me."

Lila smiled sadly, "I wish I could however I'm bound here by the King. You see my parents were in debt to the crown, so they sent me to serve him until the debt was paid, otherwise we'd all be homeless right now."

"I'm sorry Lila. I'll miss you too. You're my favorite person here you know, besides my brother." She said her mind already kicking into gear, perhaps if her father had the money he could buy Lila out and she could come with them. If not she could get a job baking pies, an apprenticeship perhaps. She'd find a way.

"Don't look so upset my Princess, I'm sorry to dampen your spirits." Lila said softly as she clipped her curls to the top of her head with a bow.

"Okay. I'll see you in a little bit, bye Lila!" Marcy called out as she raced from the room careful not to scuff her dress shoes on the rough stones. When she entered the main part of the castle she stopped short. On the stairs cleaning the banisters was a man she knew well, her father's personal servant Arthur. She nearly slapped her forehead in the excitement of the other day she totally forgot to tell Reaver about the riots and traitors. She nervously looked at him and moved quickly to the dining room, slamming the doors shut. Reaver was already sat at the head of the table waiting for her.

"You're late Princess." He said in an impatient tone.

"I know I'm sorry Mister Reaver. Please you must listen, it's important!" She pleaded as she stood next to her chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Well, go on." He waved his hand in an exhausted manner.

"Yesterday when the guards were chasing me through Bowerstone Market I hid in an alley. I heard voices so I stopped to listen, they were talking about the riots." She rushed to explain.

Reaver looked bored, "Yes Princess I am aware of the riots."

"The men were planning to spy on father and protest, perhaps a coup. They aren't pleased with my father selling off people to get a bride for my brother. I know at least one of them, the other seemed like a guard from the ports." She said frantically. She cared not one bit for the King, her brother on the other hand she did. She wouldn't let anyone jeopardize her brother's future.

Reaver sat up straighter, his eyes burning intensely as his entire focus centered on her. She felt pinned to the wall under his burning gaze and she shifted, he quietly said, "You are just informing me of this now?"

She swallowed, she knew she had made a mistake and she stuttered out, "I-I forgot, I was scared of the guards and I just forgot, I'm sorry."

There was a heavy and tense silence for a while before Reaver spoke again, in the same dangerously soft tone, "You are lucky Princess that you are both useful and royalty. I have executed far more people for less. I can see why the King is often disappointed with you." She felt tears form in her eyes as she looked down. She had so desperately wanted this man to like her, she scoffed at herself, was she so pathetic to attach to anyone who showed her the least bit of kindness? His kindness had been a lifeline to her and it felt like he was cutting it, there was nothing she could do. The worst bit was it was her own fault.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, too afraid to speak louder lest her tears fall. It was bad enough he didn't like her anymore, she didn't need to prove how weak and pathetic she was on top of that. Some Hero she was shaping up to be.

"Who?" Was all he replied his voice cold and firm.

"Arthur, the King's personal servant." She replied, "He's dusting the banisters in the main hall at the moment." She watched as Reaver walked out and into the entrance hall, she followed. Reaver shot the man in his leg and had guards drag him down to the dungeons. "Torture him until he begins talking about the treason he was planning. I want names."

They nodded and he went screaming, she stood there with Reaver until Arthur could no longer be heard. She bit her lip wondering what Reaver would do to her, he turned back, "I have to tell your father now girl."

Her heart thudded against her rib cage as panic lit her eyes up, "No! Please don't! Mister Reaver, please I'm sorry! I'll do anything!"

He grabbed her arm but his grip was not painful as he hissed, "This has nothing to do with punishing you Princess, but how else am I to explain this to your father? Did you think of that?"

She shook her head as her lips shook, "N-no."

Reaver scoffed, "Of course not. Go to your room. I think you've done enough damage for the day."

She felt her insides hollow out as she nodded, her stomach growling hungrily. When she made it back she sat on the bed and finally let the tears fall freely. She clung to Lila and sniffled, "I tried really hard to get him to like me, an' I messed it up."

"Shush darling, Reaver is known for his temper. I don't think anyone is quite brave enough to attempt a friendship with the man, except for you." Lila said as she hugged her. There was a knock at the door and a servant walked in laying down a food tray.

"Mister Reaver told me to bring this to the Princess." He said before turning and walking away.

"See? He can't be too mad at you if he went out of his way to tell someone to feed you. It'll be okay you'll see." Lila cooed rubbing her back, "Now come on eat up." She did as she was told, hungry but still she had to force herself to eat.

She didn't remember falling asleep the other night but she must have. Sitting up she rubbed her eyes, daybreak was drifting in through the windows heavily, "What time is it?" She mumbled expecting Lila to answer but it was not her.

"Past noon." King Morgan answered coldly. She jolted up in bed, suddenly wide awake, her eyes wide and her lips trembled.

"Hello Father." She said nervously gripping and twisting the bed sheets in her hand.

"Good Morning Marcella. I would say I'm pleased to see you but that would be a lie. You know I heard the strangest story from Mister Reaver this morning." The king said softly, "Do you know what it was?" She shook her head numbly.

"Well apparently you snuck out of the castle, stole from some peasants, got caught by guards, dragged back up here and then withheld information concerning a treasonous plot. Quite a wild story wasn't it? I wasn't inclined to believe it until I questioned the remaining guards myself." The king stood up and grabbed her by the hair yanking her out of bed and throwing her on the floor. She cried out in pain as she landed roughly on the cold floor. She looked around the room for escape but the door was guarded, she spotted Lila crying in the corner watching horrified and helpless.

"I'm sorry Father, I'm sorry!" She yelled out in panic, but she knew it would do know good.

"Do you have any idea how much you have not only embarrassed me but the entire country?" He bellowed, she cringed and nodded her head. She began to cry as she heard the tell tale signs of his belt coming off, she looked up with terror in her eyes only to see the belt coming towards her face. She was too slow to dodge it and she shrieked in pain as the buckle collided with her cheek, drawing blood. She could hear Lila cry out but was too consumed by pain to say much. She fell to the floor and curled into a ball. "Oh no Marcella Jane, you are not getting away so easily this time." He once more dragged her into a standing position by her hair and held her there as he mercilessly whipped her.

She screamed with pain each time the belt was brought down on her tiny body, after what seemed like forever he let her go and she landed with a shrieking thud onto the floor. She thought it was over but he was too enraged to stop, his arms had merely grown tired and he continued the brutal assault with his feet, kicking here over and over again. She tried to crawl away but there was no place to go. Lila openly sobbed begging him to stop, but all he said was, "You're interested in guns Marcella? Well let's see how you handle getting shot." He raised his pistol and aimed it at her.

Lila shrieked, "NO!" And jumped forward, throwing her body over Marcella, looking up with pleading eyes, "Please your Majesty, she's just a little girl, she won't do it again, I promise." There was a tense silence before the King chuckled darkly.

"Foolish girl, use what little brains you have. I won't shoot her. But she should learn her lesson." The king spat as he lowered his gun and dragged Lila up by the arm pushing her towards the door. Marcella slowly raised herself from the ground.

"I did, I learned Father, I won't do it again, I promise." She sniffled.

"I know you won't." The king said as he smiled, he once more raised the gun and fired, Lila dropped to the ground with a bleeding hole in her head.

"No!" Marcy screamed crawling over to her, crying. She shook Lila's shoulders but she knew the servant was gone. She clutched at her as the King stalked past her. "Let that be a reminder of what happens when you embarrass me." With that the guard left, leaving her alone in the room to mourn the last mother figure she had. She spent hours crying over the body until a guard came and pried Lila's corpse away from her. She was truly alone now, in an empty room, in an empty body, trapped in a mind filled with pain. She curled up on her bed, the burning pain coursing through her body nothing compared to the crippling pain within her. She'd never forget the way Lila's head had jerked back a surprised look on her face as she fell lifeless to the floor.

She cried until she passed out, wondering why she even existed.

_**The next afternoon….**_

She sat in the front courtyard her arms folded staring out at the gate, her eyes were sore, red and puffy. When she had woken up she had called for Lila only for cold harsh reality to flood her once more and drown her once again in her sorrow and tears. She hadn't bothered to eat, she couldn't swallow food nor was she hungry, and least of all did she want to sit at the same table as that monster. She felt a hard cold throb of hatred run through her body, tensing her muscles. She once more felt the hot prick of tears at the back of her eyes but the more she tried to swallow them back the harder they fought to escape. She tried to deep breathe but it only made it worse, her breath came out in ragged pants turning soon into hiccups.

She heard in the background the clicking of heels and an irritating tape of a cane but she didn't bother looking in the direction of the noise, not even when it approached her. "Now why would such a beautiful Princess like yourself be doing out here?" Reaver's voice drifted through her grief induced haze.

She finally turned her gaze up to him, her teary eyes hardening at the sight of him, but she knew it wasn't really his fault, he had to tell but it didn't make it any easier, "What does it matter." She croaked, turning her face back to the gates.

There was silence, but she felt his sharp gaze on her, "You are upset."

"Really? I thought I was happy, my mistake." She said sarcastically, the interaction quickly draining her of fight.

"What's the matter Princess, hmm?" Reaver asked flippantly.

She once more turned her haunted gaze up to him, the sickening hatred and anger snaring her heart once more as she spat, "I have no one left. My Mom's dead, the King killed Lila, Logan is too busy to even notice me. And I can't even find my father, though apparently he doesn't even care for me. Not that I blame him."

Reaver looked confused and then she realized what she had said but she hardly cared, "Your father, the king you mean."

She shrugged, "You asked why I was so obsessed with the Hero of Skill. I'm interested because minutes before my Mother died she told me the King wasn't my father. The hero of skill is my father. But I can't find him." She watched as Reaver jerked violently away from her for just a second, his eyes glinting with surprise.

"Ah, so all these stories you've been reading…?" He trailed off as if something else was snagging his attention.

"I've been trying to track him down. He's all I have now. The King hates me because I'm not his. I suppose I'm just a constant reminder of my Mother's rejection. I stole the toy gun that day you know, he destroyed it of course. I just thought that maybe if I became really good at shooting then maybe my real father would want me, that I could somehow make him care enough to come for me." She laughed nearly hysterically, as she ripped open wounds leaving herself raw and exposed, but what did it even matter? There was nothing he could do or say that could possibly hurt her anymore than she already was.

"I see. Well I must be off now, tatty bye!" He said as he walked quickly away from her as if to escape.

"Bye." She said carelessly, her empty gaze wandering once more to the gates.

_**With Reaver….**_

He slammed his front door closed, "Hatch, study-whiskey-NOW." He yelled as he quickly made his way into the room. He threw his top hat and cane aside and yanked open the drawers of his desk, cursing at himself for locking them. His mind was a flurry of motion as he shifted through his business papers and finally spotted the folded parchment paper at the bottom tucked into tissue paper. He gently pried the paper apart to reveal the parchment then quicky unfolded the parchment. He glanced up only once to accept the glass of whiskey, "Leave the bottle Hatch. Then get out, let the others know not to disturb me."

"Yes Master Reaver." The thin and short strawberry blonde man said with his usual accent and speech impediment. He turned his dark gaze back to the letter as the door latched closed.

_My dearest Reaver,_

_I have cherished our short time together, if you had told me all those years ago that I would count the last few months together as the happiest in my life I would have laughed and thought you mad. I might have even tried to set you up with Theresa, for she is just as mad. I suppose living a few centuries would do that to a person. Which is part of why I am writing. I have ignored the darkness inside of you because I could see your light, it burned so low that many think it non-existent but I know it is there and it is beautiful. However I can no longer accept it as part of my life. I know you are wondering what has changed, perhaps someday far in the future (At least for us mortals), you will know, but for now please trust me I do this with a heavy heart._

_I know I might not have meant much more to you than a passing fancy, or a rather proud notch on your bed, how many Queen's have you bed in your years I wonder. I do care about you greatly Reaver, and I shall never forget you or our time together, I hope this doesn't hurt you as I fear it may. I will always cherish our memories. And hopefully one day you can understand why I must do this, but certain things, innocent beings, would be harmed if we stayed together. I also fear my husband has caught on and his wrath is one even I fear. I hope you forgive me at some point in your long life and if you ever find yourself questioning the truth look no further than this letter. _

_I love you,_

_Sparrow._

His fingers gripped the letter tightly until the parchment began to crinkle, he let it fall from his hands as he sat back and passed a hand over his face. He could recall with clarity the day he had received the letter. It had left him with a bad taste in his mouth and a foul anger he could only take out on his servants. Many had died in his misdirected anger, but he hardly cared then or now. He had very rarely been rejected, let alone spurned by a lover. He would not say he was in love with Sparrow, by no means. The part of him that had that ability had died the day he had become immortal. It had screamed in pain and fear in burning Oakvale, burning to a crisp and evaporating in the wind. He did feel _something _for her but he had eventually gotten over it and moved on to other conquests, he hadn't returned to the castle until months after her untimely death.

He looked once more upon the letter now resting on the desk, as if it accused him of something. With that child's broken voice ringing in his ears it was clear what the Queen had been telling him, it was much easier to read between the lines now that he had the cypher. He had a daughter. Her name was Marcella Jane and she was the Princess of Albion. He rested his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands together. He never thought to be a father, in fact he had taken every precaution every time he laid in a bed with a woman to make sure that never happened. Obviously, however, condoms were not fool-proof, or in this case child-proof. Marcella existed. It was still hard for him to wrap his mind around it but it explained a lot. How easily her skill seemed to be with a gun, her attitude, even the way she smiled. He could clearly see himself in her now that he thought about it.

He sat in silence for a while, his mind turning things over. His life was definitely not cut out for a child, no, there was no room for one. He could simply leave her at the castle and move on like he never learned the truth. Neither would she or anyone else. Nothing would change. Then again, she _was _the Princess and he couldn't deny that would be most useful, already there had been riots and protests, surely in the coming years it would only get worse, by the time Logan took the throne the kingdom would be in utter chaos. King Morgan had asked him to return to the castle just that afternoon to discuss what could be done about it. They had come up with a plan, taxes would heighten and people would be forced to work for less money. The King's logic was that if they were too busy trying to survive they wouldn't have time or energy to protest. It held merit but it also could backfire massively, if one just applied pressure in just the right areas.

Marcella was six years old now, in twelve years she'd be of age. Twelve years he'd have to slowly and craftily cultivate the necessary measures and actions that would push the people to the brink without arising suspicion from the King. After all the foolish man had given him free reign and immunity for any crimes he would have to commit to get the people in line. He knew eventually the people would riot once more, perhaps even attempt a more stealthy coupe, a revolution perhaps. If he did it just right it could occur within a year or so of Marcella coming to age, then she could take the throne. He would have his own flesh and blood wearing the crown and ruling the kingdom. Twelve years to shape and train her, to mold her into what he wanted. He'd basically be running the country himself.

It wouldn't be hard either, it was so obvious that the girl desperately needed someone in her life. A guide of sorts, to show her the way, to give her attention and morsels of affection. She so easily thirsted for it, clinging on to anyone showing her kindness. She had hugged him after only two days, just for giving her a lesson in shooting. Imagine how he could manipulate her after twelve years of sheltering her. He smiled. There was no fear of rejection with his daughter, no it was obvious how hard she had been trying to find him. Although his betrayal of her escapades, while necessary, might have driven a wedge between them.

A flash of recent memory crossed his mind, she had turned to look at him finally in the courtyard that afternoon and he had seen it clear as day. A bruising welt across her face and a cut. Coupled with her fear of the King and the man's own wrath that even Sparrow had feared it was no mystery what had been going on for the last year. He felt his chest tighten, that pig had laid his hands on his daughter, had struck her. How many times had the King senselessly beaten his child? He may feel no love towards her, but she was still _his._ No one dared touch what was his, let alone damage it. He growled, he would have to deal with him later, no for now he would need the King in his pocket. He would never forget though, it merely left him enough time to figure out just what would be a proper punishment for such a trespass against him.

He finished off his third glass of whiskey and capped the glass bottle once more, his mind was made up. Now all that needed to be done was to have a room made up for her and to get her out of the clutches of the King. He smirked, his dark eyes glittering as he called for his most loyal servant once more.

"Yes Master Reaver?" the man popped his head in the door.

"Get the carriage ready, we must go to Bowerstone Market." He ordered as he got up and placed his hat back on his head, grabbing his cane he walked through his home trying to figure the best location for her room. He took a right at the dining room and entered the hallway that held his bedroom and a few empty rooms with only books or weapons in them. At the end of the hallway was his bedroom, it would do no good to put her so close to him. That was something he didn't want her to hear. Instead he chose the room on the opposite end of the hallway, a good thirty feet away from his own door. He stepped through the room. It was dusty but nothing a good cleaning couldn't fix, it was large about twenty by twenty feet with pristine, almost new and waxed wooden floors. Thankfully it was empty. "Sandra!" He yelled, he only had to wait a few seconds for her to arrive.

"Yes Master?" She said her head bowed.

"I want this room cleaned immaculately by the time I come back. Do you understand?" He said staring down at her. She nodded and curtsied rushing to find the cleaning supplies. Finally Hatch returned and they rode off to the Market. It took only half an hour to get there and he was pleased to find the furniture store hadn't closed. He walked to the back of the store where they kept the best furniture in case of break ins. He chose a Queen sized cherry would canopied bed with lace curtains and a golden bedspread with matching bed side tables, closets and a chest. He then purchased a cherry desk and fancy chair, along with several bookcases and couches. He sighed and purchased two large toy boxes. "Deliver them to my house, I want them now. My servants will be there to receive them." He turned and wandered into the district buying toys as he went and clothes.

Finally after what seemed like hours, and his purchases on the way to the house he was facing the castle gates. His daughter was coming home with him. He walked through the gates, the guards bowing their heads. He strolled into the castle, gaining easy access thanks to his advisor-to-the-Monarch position he had been officially dubbed with this morning and marched confidently to the study. The guards tried to stop him but he merely pushed past them and entered the room. The king sat behind his desk signing papers, he looked up at Reaver. "What do you need Reaver?"

"I have come for what is mine."


End file.
